Heaven Can Wait
by WontYouBeMyBiffle
Summary: "And I know that I've been released, But I don't know to where, And nobody's gonna tell me now,And I don't really care... I got a taste of paradise, That's all I really need to make me stay..." Dean/OFC
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Hi! This is my first fic ever, so I apologize deeply in advance. That being said, I'm using this as a writing exercise so while I would be really grateful for feedback, I'll just cry myself to sleep at night if you're unnecessarily mean. So please don't do that. _

_I sadly do not own Sam, Dean, Cas, or any of the cast or previous plots from Supernatural, but I DO own my character, who will appear soon. I hope you like her._

_Finally, I will completely admit that I despise how this turned out; I had a much better first draft that got deleted from my iPad, but... que sera sera. I'm hoping to improve as we continue. Here's hoping!_

_Thanks for reading!_

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**Chapter 1**

The most important phone call in Dean Winchester's life came in on a random Wednesday night in the month of March. Unfortunately, Dean and his brother Sam were too busy fighting a Slavic water demon in an underground sewer tunnel in Evansville, Indiana to answer it, so he missed it. It then became the most important voicemail in Dean Winchester's life.

As the message sat unnoticed in the voice mailbox of his phone, Dean grimaced at the slimy, algae-covered, regrettably naked, old man in front of him. Green mucous dripped from its every orifice, dribbling down into its straggly beard.

"Ugh. Dude, you're disgusting," Dean said, wrinkling his nose. He glanced at his brother.

"I don't have to touch it, do I?" he asked. He was beginning to get a bit cranky with the whole situation. Water had seeped into his boots from the sewer floor and soaked his socks. He also had a feeling that it was going to take more than one shower to wash the sewer smell off of his body. And he was hungry.

Sam, keeping his eyes trained on the demon, shook his head.

"No," he replied. "Actually, if he touches us, he-"

Suddenly, the demon shot forward with alarming speed and grabbed Dean by the wrist. He hissed and slime bubbled between his teeth.

"... can drown us in his slime," Sam finished with a sigh. The demon growled and pulled Dean close to him, reaching up to grab him by the back of his neck. Dean pulled away against its grip, gagging as he put his hand on its slime-covered chest to hold it at bay. But the demon had surprising strength for looking like a senior citizen, and it began to pull Dean's head down towards him.

"Sammy," Dean said, alarmed.

Sam fumbled in his jacket, pulling out a small blue squeeze bottle. He popped the top.

The demon hissed and its head whipped towards Sam, but he didn't loosen its grip on Dean. It reared its head back and spat a huge glob of slime that smacked into the side of the squeeze bottle. It flew out of Sam's hand and down the concrete tunnel, splashing in the sewer water collecting on the floor. Sam ran after it, cursing with each step.

The demon turned back to Dean and pulled his head down, even with its own. Their faces were mere inches apart and Dean swallowed, his eyes wide with panic.

"SAM!" he yelled. The demon let go of his arm, but before Dean could pull away, it grabbed his face and squeezed, forcing his jaw open.

"Okay, let's try this again," Sam muttered, the squeeze bottle back in his hands. He went to open it again but found the cap stuck tight underneath a quickly hardening layer of slime.

Dean struggled against the vice-like grasp on his jaw, his heart pounding. Being a hunter, he was no stranger to the more nauseating aspects of his job. He'd seen enough blood and gore and muck that, for the most part, he felt immune to the majority of it. But being kissed by a gooey, naked grandpa was crossing the line. He threw a desperate prayer up to the ceiling.

_Save me,_ he thought desperately. But it was too late. Dean's stomach lurched as he felt cold, sticky lips press against his.

Sam heard an inhuman noise come from his brother and looked up, fear racing through his veins. His expression turned disbelieving when he saw Dean and the green old man attached at the mouth.

"What the-"

The demon still had its mouth fused to his, and if things couldn't get any worse, Dean suddenly felt slime gushing forcefully into his mouth. He roared, wrestling furiously against the grip of the old man. He felt the slime start to push into his throat and he gagged and coughed, still fighting against the unyielding grip on his face and throat.

Sam finally came to his senses and reached back into his jacket, pulling out a switchblade. He flipped it open and stabbed it into the squeeze bottle. Then he advanced on the demon, holding the bottle tightly in his hand. He stood over the dripping, oozing demon and held the bottle over its head. Then he squeezed, watching water pour out of slit plastic.

Suddenly, the spirit exploded, completely soaking Sam and Dean with slime in the process. Dean collapsed to the ground and immediately rolled onto his stomach, retching and spitting until his mouth and throat were clear again. He lay there for a moment, breathing heavily and waiting for his nausea to pass. He groaned, feeling a thick layer of mucous weighing down his clothing and covering his face and hair.

"Huh. So Garth was right. Sea water. You okay?" Sam asked, above him. Dean looked over his shoulder and glared at him. Sam held out his hand. Reluctantly, Dean took it and let him pull him up to his feet.

"Freakin' took long enough," Dean grumbled, his voice extra gruff. He coughed again, and spit out more slime.

"Sorry. He slimed the bottle," Sam replied, suppressing a laugh.

Dean glared at him again. "Oh. He slimed the bottle. I'm sorry. I JUST GOT MOLESTED BY SLIMER, YOU DICK."

Sam couldn't control it any longer. He dissolved into laughter. He laughed until his sides hurt and he clutched at his ribs, wiping his eyes with his free hand. Dean watched him silently, his eyes narrowing until they were mere slits.

When Sam finally calmed down, he clapped a wet hand on his brother's slimy shoulder. The two began trudging towards the exit, both of them wiping slime off their faces. Dean ran a hand through his hair, grimacing.

"I'm sorry, man. But at least we ganked it in the end," Sam told him

Dean huffed.

"Yeah, AFTER he... ugh." He stopped and bent over, feeling nausea wash over him again. After a moment, he stood back up and pointed at Sam.

"Okay. You listen to me. We are gonna get some food, so I can get this goddamned disgusting taste out of my mouth. Then we're gonna find a liquor store and I am gonna buy the most expensive scotch they got and drink it until I can't remember that this ever happened. Understand?"

Sam nodded mutely, one of the corners of his mouth quirking upwards. Dean raised a warning eyebrow at his brother. Then, a chiming noise came from inside his jacket. Without breaking his stare, Dean reached inside his jacket and pulled out his phone, pressing a button and holding it up to his ear.

Sam chuckled and shook his head at his brother, then turned away to continue to make his way outside. He felt a tug on his jacket and he turned around, his eyebrows furrowed at Dean.

Dean's eyes were wide, his mouth ajar. The phone was still against his ear.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Sam asked, his stomach swooping. Dean slowly lowered the phone and looked up at him.

"It's Kevin. He did it," Dean answered, staring straight ahead. "He figured out the tablet."

"What? That's great! So we gotta go-" Sam trailed off at the look on his brother's face. Dean was frozen, his emotions unreadable.

"Dean?" Sam asked, his voice echoing through the tunnel. Dean slowly looked up at him, eyes hard.

"He says it's about me."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: GAH. I take forever to update, I'm sorry. BUT this chapter is quite a bit longer, which makes me happy. So I'm HOPEFULLY getting better at this. **

**Umm... obviously, I don't own Supernatural or any of the characters from it (including Dean, dammit), so please don't sue me. I DO own the original character who I BELIEVE will be showing up in the next chapter.**

**Feel free to leave comments! This is un-beta'd so any constructive criticism is much appreciated. But don't be mean; my lil' heart can't take it.**

**THANKS!**

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It was starting all over again. He could feel it in his bones. They had been stupid, thinking that they could get through everything mostly unscathed. Even with Cas's help and other supposedly divine interventions, evading Fate's design and screwing with their destinies far too many times was coming back to bite them in the ass. And from what he knew of life and the universe, it was going to bite hard.

He wondered if Cas knew about... whatever this was. Maybe that's why he had been so sparse lately. He had been under the impression that Cas was off doing penance, or whatever, but maybe he knew that the big fist was about to come crashing down on them and was staying out of the way this time. Maybe he was better off. But a small voice in the back of his head couldn't help but call out for the angel, as it always did, and he gritted his teeth. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, gazing at the road ahead.

He had promised himself that he wouldn't give up, ever again. After he had refused to give in to Michael, after he lost Sammy to Lucifer, after they lost Bobby, even after he got tossed into Purgatory, he fought against the hopelessness that threatened to overtake him and finally drive him mad. He was a hunter, he was a Winchester, and goddammit, he and his brother would survive this mess of a world. He hated himself most of the time, but it didn't matter; all that did matter was survival. He owed it to all of the people that had given their lives so that they could keep theirs. Sometimes the pain got too great, sometimes he remembered Lisa and Ben and Bobby and Jo and Ellen and Dad and Mom and all the others way too clearly and he had to drink himself into a stupor just to get through the night. But that was the life of a hunter. That was HIS life.

He sighed. After Kevin's call, he hadn't gotten a chance to get the drink and sleep he desperately needed. He and Sam had just changed, packed up, gotten in the Impala, and started the long drive to Garth's. They'd be there in a few hours, if he could avoid the morning's rush hour traffic. But a very big part of him wanted to keep driving past the exit and put as many miles as he could between them and whatever awaited them.

"Dean."

No, he knew well enough now that this sort of thing couldn't be avoided. It would come barreling at him and collide with him in an explosion of hellfire, no matter how fast he ran from it. His thoughts strayed to his brother. He hoped that whatever the tablet said, it left Sammy out of the picture altogether. He was slowly learning to accept that Sam was his own person, that he could... somewhat... take care of himself, that he couldn't be protected from everything anymore. But their relationship was changing, and he didn't know if it was for the better or not. Maybe they had been through too much together. Maybe they were finally losing their codependency, but sometimes he thought he was losing some of their closeness because of it. He just knew what Sam had given up to choose the life of a hunter, their life together. He deserved a break just because of that.

"Dean!"

He shook his head, snapping out of his revery. He glanced at his little brother, who was studying his face carefully.

"What, Sammy?"

"You okay?"

"What? I'm fine. Just a little tired."

Sam gave him a skeptical look.

"Come on, Dean. I know that look."

Dean exhaled, a little irritated.

"What are you talking about?"

"You're worried that this is going to be like how it was with Michael and Lucifer."

Dean was quiet for a moment. He glanced at his brother out of the corner of his eye.

"Can you blame me?" he asked softly.

"No. Of course not. But Dean, it's ridding the world of demons. We have to try, y'know?"

"Yeah. It's just that the last prophecy made about us didn't exactly come with rainbows and puppies." _And, y'know, you ended up as Lucifer's meat suit before tossing yourself into hell with our half-brother_, he thought to himself.

"But we're going into this having learned from our mistakes, Dean. A lot has changed since then," Sam said, looking down at his lap.

"Yeah," replied Dean. "It has." He could feel Sam's eyes on him, but he remained silent. His fingers drummed softly on the steering wheel. He started out at the road again, and the brothers were quiet for the rest of the trip.

* * *

It was mid-day when Sam and Dean finally arrived at Garth's house. Dean was slower than usual to turn the Impala off, and Sam raised an eyebrow at him.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked again. Dean was tempted to lie, as he usually did when it came to his feelings. But apprehension coursed through his veins, and his words tumbled out before he could stop them.

"When I was in Purgatory, Sammy, the one thing I learned was that you should always trust your instincts. They'll keep you safe, for the most part," he said, staring at the steering wheel. Then he looked at his brother.

"Right now, every damn instinct I have is telling me not to go in that house. Not to face whatever Kevin is going to lay on us. But I know I have to."

He glanced at Sam and saw his expression and fought the urge to punch his brother. He hated Sam's "pity face". It had been awhile since he'd seen it, actually. Sam opened his mouth to reply.

"Never mind," Dean said gruffly, shoving his door open. "Let's get this over with."

They walked up the creaky wooden stairs to Garth's house and opened the screen door. Before they could even open the screen door, it flew open. A gangly young man stood there, grinning from ear to ear. He spread his arms open.

"Hi guys! Long time no see, huh?" Garth exclaimed, stepping forward and enveloping Sam in a tight hug. Sam's lips quirked and he patted Garth on the back, a bit awkwardly.

"Hey, Garth, good to see you," he replied.

Then Garth turned to Dean. His eyebrows furrowed and his face sullen, he wrapped his arms around Dean, who remained stiff.

"I guess it's good news, then, huh?" he joked, half-heartedly. After a few seconds passed, he cleared his throat and Garth pulled away.

"Hey guys," came a voice from across the room.

They all turned to see Kevin, leaning heavily in the doorway. He looked like he had aged an entire lifetime since they had last seen him. His hair was stringy, long, and it fell messily into his face. He was sporting some serious shadow on his chin, which looked a bit off on such a young-looking face. He had dark circles under his horribly bloodshot eyes, and even his posture screamed "exhaustion". He was the complete picture of someone who had dealt with the world on their shoulders for far too long. Sam was the first to approach him, and laid a sympathetic hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Hey, Kevin," he said warmly. "How are you holding up?"

Kevin chuckled humorlessly. "I have nosebleeds and head-splitting headaches every day. I barely sleep. I barely eat. But other than that? Yeah. I'm doing great," he dead-panned. He sighed and rubbed his face.

"Apparently, I've lost my sense of humor, too," he added. "Sorry, guys. It's good to see you." Kevin smiled up at Sam. He turned his head.

"Hey Dean," he said softly. Dean watched his expression darken and felt his stomach drop.

"Hey Kev. To be honest, I've gotta feeling that I'm not gonna be happy to see you, once you explain what's going on," Dean replied.

"Probably not," Kevin admitted. He gestured them inside, and they all went into the house.

Not much later, the men were seated at Garth's kitchen table. The tablet lay in the middle of all of them, and Dean looked at it, his expression hard. He had an urge to toss it across the room, shoot it, and watch it explode into thousands of tiny little pieces. His fingers twitched. But he cleared his throat instead.

"So what's it say? And what do I have to do with it?" he asked.

Kevin was staring at the tablet with dazed eyes. When he spoke, his voice was soft and almost ethereal.

"There's a whole passage about the two of you. How you are 'brothers born of fate's design', how you both died and 'rose again by angel's hand'... but then it talks about the 'archangel's vessel, never to be' and how you escaped Purgatory. At one point, it actually says, 'the elder brother', so... I'm pretty sure it's you, Dean."

Dean swallowed. Even after finding out about the "Supernatural" books and everything, it still gave him the creeps to know that his life was written out by some divine hand. He could feel Sam's eyes on him.

"Okay, and?" Dean asked gruffly.

"That's where it gets iffy," Kevin replied. He concentrated harder on the tablet.

_"The soul that began it must end it as well_

_One half brought the war between heaven and hell_

_The other will end it by closing the gates_

_And settling a debt that is owed to the fates._

_First, the halves must be joined, both above and below_

_And the holy words spoken for all worlds to know." _

Everyone was silent. The words hung in the air.

"What the hell does that mean?" Dean finally asked, annoyed. He stood up quickly, his chair scraping across the floor. He paced in the small kitchen.

"Th-there's more, but I haven't quite gotten it figured out yet," Kevin stammered, coming out of his trance.

"Maybe you could've gotten the rest of it before you called us here to try and figure out some riddle that may or may not be about me," Dean snapped, his temper rising. He felt strung out and confused, and his anger rose against his will.

"Dean, come on," Sam cut in.

"It IS about you! I'm sure about that much. And I called you because I thought you should know. I'm doing the best I can here," Kevin argued. Dean punched the tabletop and leaned towards the boy.

"Well I don't think-"

"Dean."

Everyone froze at the voice, especially Dean. His eyes widened in shock. There was no way. After all of the praying he did over the past few months, he actually had the balls to show up now?

"Dean. I'm sorry. It is about you."

He slowly turned and laid his eyes on the intruder to their conversation. The familiar trench coat and backwards tie. The ruffled black hair and piercing blue eyes that he knew far too well.

"Cas?" he whispered. The angel nodded, averting his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I've been... detained. But Dean, I believe what Kevin has translated is true. Your soul is the key to closing the gates of hell. As for the rest of it... the rest is all my fault, Dean. And I am very sorry for it."

A single tear fell down Cas's cheek. Dean watched him, his emotions barely in check. He wasn't sure whether to hug the guy or punch him. Maybe he'd do both.

"Cas, what are you talking about? Where have you been, man?" Dean asked, a million questions whirling through his head.

Castiel shook his head sadly and looked up at his friend, tears swimming in his eyes.

"I will explain everything, I promise, but we must attend to the most urgent matter first," Castiel replied. He slowly came forward, invading Dean's personal space, as he always did. Cas slowly brought his hand up towards Dean's forehead.

"Don't-" Dean said, trying to back away.

"You do have a missing half to your soul, Dean. That missing half is in Hell."

Cas's fingers came into contact with Dean's forehead, and they both disappeared.


End file.
